Those Bloody Memories
by malfoyforever
Summary: After Draco's death, Scorpius Malfoy finds a Pensieve and a vase filled with memories left to him. When he decides to view them, his opinion of his father changes, sure, but for better or for worse? COMPLETE.
1. Father's Will

**a/n: So. Just to clarify a few things, _Legacy_ takes place in an universe very similar to that of _The Penetrator of Darkness: Year One_ and _The Scorpion and the Wolf_. There's a few differences, of course: Scorpius has a younger brother called Melun (well, the Malfoys aren't known for their normal names, are they?), it's not Crossover (like _TSatW_), etc. **

**There are four chapters. Every one of them is more or less 1000 words, except for the third chapter, which is *drumroll* 3000 words! :O I've written all of them and I'm posting every one of them today, so no fear :D **

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><p><strong>Father's Will <strong>

As the casket was lowered into the ground, Scorpius Malfoy turned away.

He didn't want to see. He didn't want to see this confirmation of Father's death, didn't want to give himself another reason to feel guilty. _If only, if only_. The words had been swirling in his mind for the past week – first for Mother and Grandfather's funerals, and then when Grandmother sat him, Melun, and Megara down to tell them the news. The Healers couldn't save Father. He was living off machines. It was time for them to let him go.

The wizard attending to the funeral, Mr. Haskins, recited a few final words in his sombre tone. Scorpius barely listened as pieces of the speech floated by. "_Caring_... _Hard-working_... _Rest in peace_... _He shall be missed_..." Scowling, Scorpius corrected him internally: No, he shall _not_ be missed. Harry Potter was probably laughing, holed up in his office. The fire had killed three Malfoys. Three more blood extremists off the face of this Earth, he was probably thinking gleefully.

He swallowed as his eyes began to well up again. Beside him, Rose Weasley put a hand over his. "Everything okay?" she said softly, her grey blue eyes flickering over to his steel grey. Scorpius felt his throat become tight again. Rose's voice was _never_ soft. Only when something really bad happened. Like this.

"Yeah," Scorpius managed to reply. "Everything's fine. Don't worry."

Rose looked at him again, her eyebrows knitting together. "If you say so."

* * *

><p>"Scorp." His brother, Melun, sat down beside him. "Hey."<p>

The older boy barely looked up. "Oh. Hullo, Mel."

Melun was silent for a moment, and then he said briskly, "Well, Grandmother told me to call you. They've been... digging around the Manor – what's left of it, at least – and they've found a few things. Like... A few stuff that Father's giving us from his will, remember?"

Those last words finally made Scorpius lift his head. "_What_?"

"Seems as if Father kept his stash in the dungeons... which haven't been burned too badly. At least, compared to the rest." Melun sighed, sounding much too tired to pass for a fourteen-year-old boy. "Scorp, what I'm trying to say is, they've got the stuff from Father's will in the dungeons, and they want us to claim it."

He gritted his teeth, feeling his stomach drop. "I am _never_ going back there again."

"Well, good, because neither am I. They're bringing it over in half an hour." Scorpius' little brother twisted his mouth, a wry smile curling at his lips. "And Megara tells me to clean yourself up. Apparently, you look like a right Mud – tramp, or something."

Scorpius sighed, not missing the cut out 'Mudblood' for anything. "Right this way." _Idiot sister. _

* * *

><p>"... And to my elder son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, I leave my Pensieve. I trust he puts it to good use," the Ministry official read. His bony fingers rested on a small stone basin, which was simply decorated, with only the Malfoy crest engraved on each of its sides. He reached over, into his briefcase, and pulled out an intricate, charred-looking crystal vase which was sealed off at the top. As he peered at it, Scorpius saw silvery wisps swirling inside.<p>

He couldn't believe his eyes. This silvery substance, he'd only seen it once before. He'd been a first year, lurking in the Headmaster's office, when he happened to come across it. _Memories. _

"... Curious," the Ministry official said in an unctuous tone, raising his eyebrows. "Simply _curious_... Mr. Malfoy, I don't suppose you know the reason your father left you not only his Pensieve, which is a rarity in itself, but some of his memories, too?"

Scorpius shook his head. "No. He never even mentioned to me once that he had a Pensieve."

The Ministry official shrugged, moving on to Melun's inheritance, while Scorpius continued thinking. He'd meant what he'd answered the Ministry wizard, but he hadn't said the whole truth: it was rare for Draco Malfoy to even _speak_ to his blood traitor, Gryffindor, 'Mudblood-loving' son.

Which left him wondering: _Why_ had Father left him his bloody memories?

* * *

><p>Scorpius paced in the room, his hands clasped together. "And then I'm wondering – why in Merlin's baggy Y-fronts did Father give me his memories as my inheritance? Everyone knows, I mean everyone, that he hates – that our relationship is – <em>was<em> – less than amicable!"

Al Potter looked uncomfortable. "Maybe there was something important in them. Maybe your father somehow knew what we were working on, what we were fighting against... What do _you_ think, Rose?"

Rose shrugged. "It's probably more complicated than that." She turned to Scorpius, her blue eyes bright. "You know what you have to do, Malfoy – view the memories. That's all I can say. Your father left them to you for a reason."

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><p>That night, he thought it over as the hours ticked away on his Muggle alarm clock.<p>

Rose was right, that much he acknowledged. Father wouldn't have left his most personal possessions – his memories – to his elder son for no reason. There had to be something in there, something important. He had to view them at this very moment; he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

Running a hand through his hair, Scorpius kicked off his covers and moved to the foot of his bed, already picking out his clothes from the pile of dirty laundry that lay there.

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><p><strong>So, who's with me? Please read and review, especially if you favouritealert! :D**


	2. Conversation with Grandmother

**a/n: Megara (22), Scorpius (16), and Melun (14). **

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><p><strong>Conversation with Grandmother <strong>

Scorpius slipped his feet into his slippers and cast one last look towards Melun. His brother snored, rolling over on his side, and mumbled something before moaning softly. Scorpius snorted at that. Melun could probably sleep through an earthquake, or something.

He crept to the door, which made a light creaking noise as it opened. The Manor being... in the state that it was, his grandmother, his brother, and him were all staying at Megara's flat in Greenwich. Scorpius had heard Melun complaining that it reeked of Muggles, but never to her face. The two Malfoy boys both knew just how pissed their older sister could get.

The kitchen light was open, which was quite odd. Scorpius inched closer, curious. Perhaps Megara was working late. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice him creeping by. The Pensieve _was_ in the sitting room, after all.

"Scorpius, boy, what _are_ you doing in your robes at this hour in the night?"

Grandmother stood at the doorway of Megara's stylish kitchen, a hand on the doorframe. Her long blonde hair was in a braid over her shoulder; she was wearing nothing but a nightdress and a pair of pale pink slippers. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

Scorpius swallowed and tried to look cocky. "I was, er, hungry."

Narcissa smirked. "Don't try to lie to me, boy," she said, looking most amused. "Your grandfather trie-" A shadow flitted over her face, and then it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "Lucius used to try to lie to me all the time. Never worked, Scorpius. I know for a fact that Malfoy men all lie the same way... Don't they?"

A pale pink tinge appeared on his skin. Grandmother knew how to screw with him the right way, it seemed. "Maybe," Scorpius muttered stubbornly, still trying to sound cool.

"Well, I was just going to get a chamomile for myself," Narcissa said briskly. "Why don't you grab a seat too – if you're as _hungry_ as you pretend to be?" When Scorpius opened his mouth to coolly lie his way out, his grandmother continued, "Or do you just want to view the memories that your father left you?"

Narcissa smirked, looking quite smug.

Scorpius tried to smirk back, and then sighed, twisting his mouth. Clearly, his abilities were running out. He was going to have to practice a bit, preferably with Rose. "Alright," he conceded bitterly. "You win, Grandmother."

* * *

><p>"So," Narcissa raised her cup of tea to her lips. "Why did you suddenly decide to enter the Pensieve at <em>three in the morning<em>, boy?"

Scorpius decided to try his next best excuse, which was probably not even a lie. "I couldn't fall asleep."

For once, Grandmother looked sympathetic. "Insomnia," she said in a bitter tone. "I've known many nights of it." Her eyes diverted from Scorpius', and she gazed out into the space. Probably lost in her memories, Scorpius thought. Weren't they all?

He sighed. "Look, Grandmother. I..." Narcissa's icy blue eyes met his. She raised her eyebrows. Scorpius sighed again. This would be a test to his ego. "Er, Grandmother, I really need-"

"To go." Grandmother smirked again. "Subtlety was never your forte. You Gryffindork – Gryffindors, I mean." Then she became serious again, and she looked into Scorpius' eyes. "Boy, your father, he was exactly like Lucius. Stubborn, high-headed, too ambitious for his own good. Scared... You'll see some things in his memories, I'm sure. About me, about Draco, about Lucius. Not in the best light. Just remember-"

"-you did what you needed to do in the war," Scorpius said slowly, nodding. "I know, Grandmother."

Narcissa's eyes flickered to him again as she sighed. "I'm waiting for it to sink into that stubborn head of ours, but never mind. Come on, boy."

* * *

><p>Grandmother handed him the crystal vase, and Scorpius stared at the memories, absolutely mesmerized, before he poured them into the Pensieve. "I'm guessing you've already entered one once before, Merlin knows when and where," she observed quietly. "Remember, boy, just lean in-"<p>

Scorpius put a hand on her shoulder. "I know, Grandmother. Don't worry about me."

Narcissa shook her head. "I'm afraid that's beyond my control, Scorpius. Now, go on."


	3. Memories

**a/n: Harmonia was invented in that little head of mine. Some of the dialogue in several memories (Draco and Harry's interactions in the train, Dumbledore and Draco on the Astronomy Tower, the Battle of Hogwarts scene in the Room of Hidden Things) is taken from the books, so don't own. If I did, Lucius' backstory would be explained better and Dominique Weasley would have appeared in the epilogue :/ **

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><p><strong>Memories <strong>

Scorpius landed on firm ground, the sun already causing him to shade his eyes. Besides that, it was okay, though. The sun was in another dimension, of sorts, and it couldn't hurt him. Neither could the other elements in the memories – except on the psychological plan, of course. But Scorpius was just weird that way. For some reason, he couldn't control his emotions-

"Day-co!" A blonde girl of around three years ran over to a small toddler; she was a bit fuzzy around the edges. Her blonde ringlets hung mid-back, and her eyes were as grey as Scorpius'. "I founded a small butterfly. He cute, Day-co, see? He sooo, sooo cute."

The little boy sitting in the grass seemed to be only about a year old. Scorpius couldn't see him clearly, either. He smiled widely at the girl, drooling a bit in the process, and crawled over to get a better look at the butterfly. When the insect tried to flutter away, the girl put a hand over it and the little boy pouted.

Scorpius drew back, biting his lip. The girl was obviously Harmonia, his father's older sister. Father's Megara. But he knew from studying the Malfoy family tree with his grandfather as a child that Harmonia had drowned in the pond behind Malfoy Manor at the age of three and a half. It was a pity. Besides the obvious reasons, Scorpius thought, Harmonia was a right beauty. She could have been a heartbreaker one day, had she lived.

And the boy. Obviously, it was his father. Scorpius couldn't place his mind around the fact that he was seeing his father as a one-year-old, as it had been. Sure, he'd seen photographs of his father as a child like everyone else – but how many people managed to see their father as a toddler _live_?

Shifting back to the memory, Scorpius saw that a blonde woman had come over, followed by a blond man. Narcissa and Lucius in their late twenties, most likely. "Mona, sweetie," Narcissa said, smiling. Scorpius had to strain his ears to hear her; he wondered why. "You're hurting the poor butterfly."

"Oh, lay off her, Cissa," Lucius teased her. "We can teach her animal ethics _later_."

"I hope we'll have time," Narcissa murmured, making Scorpius lean in and frown.

The wizard turned to his wife, his chin lifted upwards slightly. Scorpius thought it was still weird, seeing Grandfather without the scars, hearing him without the hoarse voice he was used to. "Darling, don't worry," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. His grey eyes met her icy blue. "I'll be fine, I promise. If Igor Karkaroff can get off, and you know he's horrible under pressure, I'll do _splendidly_, Narcissa. You needn't worry."

"That's not exactly something I have control-" Narcissa started to say, almost exactly what she'd told Scorpius earlier, but she was interrupted by Lucius, whose mouth was already covering hers. Her eyes sliding down to her blouse, where his fingers were already hovering over, she pushed him away and said, trying to sound very dignified, "Not in front of the children, Lucius, you needn't scar them for life!"

"Ah, they're toddlers, darling," Lucius winked. "They'll survive."

Scorpius barely heard the last sentence. He was only aware of his surroundings and the faces fading, blurring into one, and then everything turned black.

* * *

><p>The air shimmered, and Scorpius found himself in another place, in another time. Blinking, he saw that he was in his grandparents' suite, where he had spent so much of his childhood. In fact, when he looked closer, he could see the same furniture, less faded and younger-looking: the king bed, the gleaming mahogany wardrobe, the splendid chest of drawers that his grandparents possessed. Scorpius bit his lip, and then looked round into the parlour-<p>

"Father, I'm here," said a boy's voice, ringing much clearer than any of the voices in the last memory. Scorpius did a double-take as he looked as his father, who was no longer a toddler but a six- or seven-year-old. In his mind, the sixteen-year-old wizard compared the pictures he'd seen of himself at his age to this boy. If Draco's hair was a shade darker and his eyes slightly wider, Scorpius had no doubt that they'd pass for twins, or even the same person.

"Good." Lucius' hand reached for something in the bookshelf in the next room and he emerged, holding a worn-out copy of _A Genealogy of the Distinguished Wiltshire Clan of Malfoy_. Scorpius had learned of the Malfoy history from the same book, the same teacher. "Draco, have you got your parchment paper and your quills, too?"

The boy smiled slowly. "Yeah," he said, gesturing to the sack in front of him.

His father's lips curved into a smile as well, and Lucius sat down in front of him. Now that he'd seen the two of them, Scorpius couldn't help but note that none of them had such fuzzy outlines anymore. "That's perfect, then," he put down the book in front of his son and opened it to the first page. "Could you read me the first page, son?"

Draco began reading slowly, stumbling over several of the more complicated words, and Scorpius couldn't help but think that Lucius was a tad more patient with his father than with him. Oh, well. Draco wasn't half as spirited as Scorpius when he'd been at his age – so _hah_.

When Scorpius' father finished, Lucius put his hand over the page and said, "Did you understand any of that, Draco?"

"Well, I did get that Malfoys were wicked cool," Draco answered, looking as if he were wondering if he had the right answer.

Lucius gave a nod. "That's right, Draco. And today, we're going to learn why and how we are what we are now, son." His lip curling, he continued, "And we're going to learn why we deserve it."

"Alright, Father."

In the background, Scorpius shook his head. What Lucius had told his father and what he'd told him were almost exactly the same – except that since Scorpius lived in the post-war world, Grandfather's mini-speech was more about regaining the previous reputation. Scorpius looked back at his father before the memory faded and wondered why someone who was so similar-looking to him could be as easily brainwashed as that. Then again, wasn't that what had happened to Lucius, and his father before, and all the generations before, too?

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><p>In the next memory, Draco had grown quite a bit more. He looked to be about eleven years old; he carried himself in the same way as he'd carry himself for the rest of his life. Two heavyset boys stood at his sides, as if they were his bodyguards. His piercing grey eyes swung to a black-haired boy beside him. With quite a shock, Scorpius realised it was Harry Potter at eleven years old.<p>

"I'd be careful if I were you," he drawled, a pale pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."

Both Potter and the red-haired boy beside him – he looked like a younger version of Rose's dad – stood up. Eleven-year-old-version-of-Mr.-Weasley was as red as his hair.

"Say that again," Rose's dad threatened.

The surroundings began to blur again before Scorpius could see what happened next. The fifth year shook his head. Who knew what could have happened if Father had used a more, say, friendly approach to Potter? Would Scorpius' family have been better protected at the fall of the Dark Lord? Would Draco have even _decided_ to become a Death Eater?

* * *

><p>Scorpius first saw a pair of glowing scarlet eyes before his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then his heart jumped in his chest – there he was, the Dark Lord, standing right in front of him! Scorpius shuddered. This was the man – <em>monster<em> – who had made so many people suffer, including his family. Scorpius acknowledged it; he didn't always see eye to eye with his family, but he... cared for them, and he couldn't help but feel some family loyalty. This was something Scorpius disliked about Gryffindor House, a rarity – they couldn't understand how he could care for a family of Death Eaters and blood extremists – but family is family. Period.

Shaking his head, Scorpius turned back to the Dark Lord, who was stroking a thick snake entangled around his neck like a boa. At the sound of footsteps, he called, "Severusss Snape, my loyal servant. Have you brought me the boy?"

Then the drawled, unctuous-sounding reply: "Yes, my Lord... Draco, go and bow to your master."

A sixteen-year-old Draco Malfoy emerged from the shadows, all platinum blond hair and black robes. He held his wand tightly in his hand, but Scorpius couldn't help but notice his wand hand trembling. Honestly, Scorpius couldn't blame him. "Greetings, my Lord," Draco said, and then he fell to his knees in front of the Dark Lord. Scorpius turned away with his mouth twisted when Draco began kissing his robes. Who knew what lingered at the foot of Lord Voldemort's robes? "I have come to serve you, as Professor Snape has surely told you."

The Dark Lord mustered the closest thing to a smile that he could. "Yes, he has." And then he took Draco's face, making the boy tense, and said, "Ah, Draco Malfoy. Heir of Malfoy, son of Lucius... I shall hope that you serve me better than your father has ever had... I know better than anyone how it is to live with the sins of the father... So you shall too..." A long-fingered hand poked Scorpius' father's face.

Draco looked as if he were going to gulp. "Yes, my Lord," he answered, desperately trying to hold his head high, from the looks of it. "I shall serve you most loyally."

"Good." The Dark Lord flicked his wand, and Draco fell to his knees with a muffled yell. Voldemort's cruel scarlet eyes flickered to the sixteen-year-old on the floor. "From now on, you are no longer Draco Malfoy," he whispered. "From now on, you are my servant. A nameless Death Eater among others. And your first task, boy, is to kill the one you reluctantly call Headmaster – Albus Dumbledore..."

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><p>In between memories, Scorpius considered the last one. His father's face kept floating back to him. His scared eyes. Scorpius thought back to Grandmother's earlier words.<p>

"_Boy, your father, he was exactly like Lucius. Stubborn, high-headed, too ambitious for his own good. Scared... You'll see some things in his memories, I'm sure_-"

* * *

><p>Scorpius stumbled his way into the next memory as the surroundings appeared as if an invisible hand was drawing them. He looked down and discovered that he was on top of the Astronomy Tower. Turning back, he saw his father's white-blond head. Then he noticed the thin, tall wizard Father was pointing his wand at.<p>

Albus Dumbledore.

Of course, Scorpius knew the story of Dumbledore's murder. It was general knowledge. And he definitely knew the hesitation that Father had gone through, what he seemed to be watching right at the moment.

Draco was still staring at Dumbledore, his wand raised. "But I got this far, didn't I?" he said slowly, just when Scorpius thought he'd lower his wand. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here... and you're in my power... I'm the one with the wand... you're at my mercy..."

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Scorpius' father's mouth was still open. His wand hand continued to tremble as it had during Draco's first meeting with the Dark Lord. And then, with Scorpius watching in another dimension, he slowly lowered his wand-

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><p>Scorpius smelled smoke. Fire. Fear. When the surroundings became clearer, he saw that he was in an immense room. As he looked closer, Scorpius noticed gigantic chimaeras, dragons in the form of out-of-control flames. Instinctively shrinking back even though he knew they couldn't hurt him, he realised that the fiery monsters were chasing several figures in the room. A frizzy-haired witch. A red-haired wizard. A teenage boy with a lightning scar. Rose's mum, Rose's dad, Al's dad. All flying for their lives on heavy-looking broomsticks.<p>

Then he saw the pale blond hair, and there he was: Father, standing on a fragile tower of charred desks. He was supporting an unconscious-looking heavyset boy, probably Hayden Goyle's father, Scorpius thought. The expression on his face as the flames danced and danced was nothing short of desperate.

And then Potter dived on his broomstick and reached for Draco and Goyle. Scorpius watched from his vantage view the process: how it seemed the plan wouldn't work for a moment, how Potter and then Rose's mum finally succeeded. Weasley looked absolutely furious on his broom: "IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'LL KILL YOU, HARRY!" Rose's dad roared over the sounds of the flames, of the raging fire.

Scorpius turned his attention back to Draco once they were out of the hellhole; he watched his father pant and gasp and retch. As soon as his father could speak, he choked out, "C-Crabbe – C-Crabbe..."

Rose's father did not look sympathetic. "He's dead," he said roughly, in the same tactless manner Al Potter sometimes had.

Draco simply twisted his mouth and looked down. Scorpius wondered how many memories there really were. Watching all of this, watching these moments in his father's life, they really did something to him. As if... As if he had finally begun _understanding_ him.

* * *

><p>Father was older now, probably in his mid-twenties. He sat on a pink canopy bed, and Scorpius recognized it as Megara's when he got closer. Draco was stroking his daughter's hair; Megara seemed to be only about four or five years old. "I'm sorry for today," he whispered. "I'd like to know where Pansy is too..."<p>

"So you _did_ lie to me!"

Scorpius' mother stood in the threshold, a hand on her hips. Her brown eyes were narrowed at her husband.

"So what if I still love her?" Draco snapped, standing up. "It's not as if I'm going to leave and go find her – she's gone!"

Astoria's eyes were on the girl sleeping in the bed. "How would you feel if your spouse's bastard child-"

"_Don't bloody call her that_!"

"I'll call her whatever I like!" Mother shrieked. "Do you even know how I feel when _I_ wake up to you shrieking – shrieking in dream-fantasies of you and _her_?"

Father was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Astoria, you know that pureblood marriages are not necessarily for love. You know they're for continuing the line... and you should be _thankful _that I actually _care_ for you!"

"Well, I think I deserve better," Astoria retorted, and she turned on her heel. "It's just my luck to marry someone like _you_, Draco Malfoy."

* * *

><p>Scorpius shivered as the air turned frigid. Looking around, he found that he was in the dungeons – most probably in the ones in Malfoy Manor, if his memory was good. He walked along the cold stone passage until he reached a room that actually had a bit of light.<p>

It was his father's office. In fact, Draco was writing inside at the very moment, scrawling down Merlin-knew-what on a parchment paper so quickly that it actually ripped several times. Scorpius approached hesitantly, having a feeling that what he'd see was important.

_Dear Scorpius Hyperion, _

_I enclose these memories and this Pensieve to you in my will. As you will certainly read, I trust that you put them to good use. Here, I'd like to add that, in short, this is my life. I feel that the two of us, we have always been more different than similar in our views. But, as my mother rightfully remarked, you're similar to me as well, Scorpius. _

_That's why I want you to see the moments in my life, in a way. I don't want you to make the same mistakes as me. I don't want you to have everything you should – a good home, money, a wife, and three perfect children – and still feel so unsatisfied. I'm your father, Scorpius. Naturally I care. _

_Yes, that's what I've come to realise in my life. Every father cares for his son. Even mine. I thought your grandfather didn't care at some point; I thought he just thought of me as a tool. It wasn't true, Scorpius, and it isn't true for me when it comes to you. I know you feel I like Melun best; I know you do your best to not care about me... People your age are like that; it's only natural. It's hard, becoming someone. I know. _

_But for us Malfoys, it's harder than for most. We're disliked by many. We're too prideful. Too foolish. Every generation repeats the mistakes of their fathers. Every Malfoy father pretends to not care about his children. It's just our way, Scorpius. I hope you'll accept that. _

_And long after I'm gone, I hope you'll find these memories and view them. _

_I hope you'll forgive me, son. _

_Love (you don't know how hard this is for me to actually phrase it), _

_Your father, _

_Draco. _

Scorpius' eyes quickly welled up as he read the letter, and he felt his throat tighten. Draco must have felt the same, because he swallowed several times before rereading the letter. And then, as Scorpius had expected him to do, his father shook his head slowly and ripped it. Destroyed it into tiny pieces. He even burned it to be sure.

The surroundings began fading. Scorpius felt his throat tighten again; STRONG SCORPIUS BE STRONG. He craned his neck and took a last look at his father, the closest he could come to in person, before Draco disappeared for good, forever and ever.


	4. Aftermath

**Aftermath **

The next morning, Scorpius sat at the counter for breakfast, his eyes ringed by black shadows. Beside him, Melun yawned widely, still half-asleep. When Narcissa joined the two boys at the table, she gave her elder grandson a meaningful look before settling onto her chair.

"Didn't sleep well, Scorpie?" Megara inquired, bringing her kiwi smoothie to her lips. Apparently, she couldn't live without it. "You look _terrible_."

"Mm," was the muttered reply. The memories of last night were still swirling around in his mind and he was in no mood for _this_. Plus, the ever-so-curt 'mm' was better than telling his sister to bugger off and have Grandmother after him for it.

"He'll be okay, Megara," Narcissa said, and she inclined her head at Scorpius. "I want to speak with you after breakfast, boy."

Melun and Megara looked at their brother curiously for that, but he simply shrugged it off. After what he'd seen in his father's memories, he wasn't really... feeling that snarky anymore. Laughing internally at what Rose would say if she discovered he was actually becoming thoughtful, he simply went back to breakfast so he could meet with Grandmother as fast as possible and get it over with.

* * *

><p>Grandmother was direct in her approach.<p>

"What did you see, Scorpius?"

Shrugging, the sixteen-year-old boy recounted every single memory from last night. He left out the details of what Father had written to him in the letter, preferring to keep them to himself. A last present of sorts, from an estranged pair of father and son, if you will. "It wasn't what I expected," Scorpius said simply, not looking at his grandmother.

Narcissa nodded, as if that was what she'd been expecting. It probably was; Grandmother saw much more than Scorpius gave her credit for. "Your father didn't have the best of lives," she said, her face set in familiar grim lines. "But he did deserve much more."

Scorpius simply looked at her, not knowing what to expect.

"I need someone to help me choose a quote to put on your father's tombstone, Scorpius," Narcissa said. "And I think that someone is you. Are you up for it, boy?"

She didn't have to ask, because she already knew the answer.

"Yes, I am, Grandmother," Scorpius said, and he felt his eyes sting again.

He tried to chase away the feeling.

* * *

><p>Scorpius spent the next few days – the next week, even – looking for quotes. He let Al and Rose help him, too, and the three of them headed out to the library every day to search for some. They spent the mornings and the afternoons holed up there, only coming home for supper. Evenings were spent pouring over the day's work.<p>

Finally, near the end of that week, Scorpius found the right quote.

"_You can't be brave if you've only had wonderful things happen to you"_

It was by a Muggle American comedian and actress called Mary Tyler Moore, Rose had told him with her perpetual smug look. Scorpius had simply shrugged. Whatever. He had his quote, his perfect quote that he could give Grandmother – the quote everyone would remember Draco Malfoy by.

Now, he only had one thing left to do.

* * *

><p>Scorpius walked towards the charred remains of Malfoy Manor, hand in hand with Rose.<p>

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she whispered as her eyes scanned the ruins of his home.

He simply nodded. "And I'll do it alone. You wait here, Rose. I'll be fine."

Without awaiting her reply, he kissed her and quickened his pace until he reached what he believed to be the main entrance of the former Malfoy Manor. He let his eyes roam over the black heap in front of him, let his eyes roam over what had once been so great and what was now utterly destroyed. His breath hitching in his throat, he remembered the days of his childhood, the good old days during which he had run around the gardens with Megara and Melun. He thought of the days he'd spent in his grandparents' suite, the days coercing the house-elves in the kitchen.

He remembered Mother tucking him in as a child. Father putting a hand on his shoulder and wishing him a good trip to Hogwarts. Grandfather looking at him, half-fond and half-exasperated, and shaking his head. He remembered the elves, too – Batty and Tibby and Johnny and all the others. He remembered every member of his family that had perished in the fire.

One day, he'd get his vengeance on the one who'd set it. One day. But, for now, he had something to do.

For a moment, Scorpius felt the tiny slip of parchment paper in his left hand. It was soft and humid-feeling, because his hands were sweating. Whatever, he thought, and looked into the distance. The ruins of Malfoy Manor. He slowly uncurled his fingers and took the slip of paper with his thumb and his index finger.

He took a deep breath. He looked at his home – burned and destroyed – but still his home.

And, quickly, Scorpius let go of the paper.

It tumbled round on the wasted ground for a moment or two, but then the wind began picking up speed and it whirled off into the distance. Whirl, whirl, whirl. He didn't let it stray from his sight until it had disappeared, past the ruins of Malfoy Manor and to the beyond.

Scorpius turned back, already walking off to meet with Rose again. He didn't look back at the rubble, at where the piece of parchment paper had gone. He simply looked forward, ever so forward, and it was only when he had his face pressed in Rose's frizzy hair and his arms around her waist that he allowed himself to finally cry.

* * *

><p>And, for those curious, the parchment paper had only three words. Three very simple words that could mean anything, to anyone. Three very special words for a certain Scorpius Malfoy.<p>

_I forgive you._

**The End **

* * *

><p><strong>an: And that's the end, people. Hope you enjoyed :) **

**Even so, please read and review - how did you like Scorpius? Narcissa? Rose? Melun and Megara? Draco? Lucius? - and please don't favourite/alert without reviewing, thanks! :D **


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